Silent we stand before the open graveand see no rebirth, no return to mother

For even she, I imagine, couldonly offer us back to blackened skies

sparks from the one flamestruck now like wet matcheson the fringe of darkness

Like the once upon a timeI watched you flutter away

formless as a whisper

then stared to find the night unlit

But just as those captiveto the failure of firewho consider solely the surrender of stars

there are otherswho remain witness to a breath

and call me to the Tendingin the fragile dominionof embers

so that Iin my turningmay find you fully

cooled enough to carry

burnt enough to bear

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David Dixon is a physician, poet, and musician who lives and practices in the foothills of North Carolina. His poetry has appeared in America Magazine, LIGHT Journal, Edify Fiction, The Examined Life, and Rock & Sling.